Suspension Without Suspense
by Vashti
Summary: To save the child she must go back to a place she barely remembers, a place she thought she escaped.


This is just before the series finale (of course I can't remember the name) and frighteningly enough its based on a dream I had so has no basis in the "real" world. Be kind, rewind. Well that made no sense.....Oh and the title is from No Doubt's song "Suspension Without Suspense" off _The Return of Saturn_ LP. 

Suspension Without Suspense 

I step up the last stair and round the corner. 

I know this place. I spent some time here. Everything is familiar but I get the impression it shouldn't be. I ignore the latter feeling. 

I'm looking for people I know. At first my wanderings are random, looking into room windows for fellow inmates I've left behind. They _are_ inmates; we were held captive against our will. However this aimless wandering feels familiar too. I used to do this during my stay though it wasn't allowed; though my door was locked though discovery meant punishment. 

My feet are leading me while my mind wanders. I become aware of myself for the first time. My hands are in the pockets of a long black coat. I'm wearing black slacks and black shoes but I don't know if they are loafers or boots. My shirt is some light color I can't determine. I walk silently down silent halls, down halls of muted noise, down halls with an electrical hum. 

And as I look up, finally aware of myself and the hostile world I have returned to, I find my feet have led me home. This was my corridor. My prison is somewhere down this aisle. 

But this isn't what I am looking for. In finding my "home" I have discovered my reason for coming back to this place. I am looking for a child. There are many children here. I was one of them. I am looking for his child. 

Surprisingly and without knowing how, I know where he, the child, is. I look into his room. Its not far from where mine was. It is a mess and much more stark than I remember them being. Then again the only rooms I saw were the girls' during my stay. 

I don't see him. Strangely I am not upset. As I turn away from the little window I notice chubby child legs amidst the chaos of his bed. I don't go back. 

Now my second objective, the father: I look into the next room. It sits on the inside of a right angle, a stairwell on its other side. The father stares back at me through the window. I hadn't expected to find him so soon. 

A body dressed as he, in the whites and grays of this place, passes between us. His back is toward me. I don't know who he is, though I think I should, as he stands so close his head is not visible. 

When he passes I think I see hope in the father's eyes. His name whispers in my mind. The mask never breaks; he can't afford to let it. I watch his eyes flicker from mine to his captor. A pacer, I do know him. I turn and leave and wait for an opening. 

I don't think of it in those terms, but it is what I feel nevertheless. Once again I find myself at the threshold of my room, a carpeted isolation chamber with two beds. 

It is as I left it. I don't know how long I've been gone but it hasn't been very long I think. Mine was the bed closest to the door, the day bed. I wasn't allowed near the other or its closet and bureau space. I had a roommate once. She stayed for one day. I sit on the bed and remember when one of Them found me on the other bed. He slapped me and I fell to the floor. I remember sitting on my bed clutching a purple pillow much as I did now. 

Calmly I look out the door and round the corner. The man is leaving. Before I turn away the father and I make eye contact. I have to go back into what was my room or be caught. I wait a few moments more -- to live in memory than for his sake. But I can't, and don't want, to stay there forever. 

I walk out of my old prison my purple and wood gold prison and into the hallway. I don't check them. 

Although I'm sure the cell I open the door without problem. I remember getting out of my room with similar ease. I simply do not question it. As I stand in the threshold the father cuts his eyes from me to the direction of his son's room. Turning I understand, They have left the child's room open. 

"Adam," I whisper and rush in. I pick the child up. The plan was worked out between the father and I when our eyes met. 

"Hi Adam," I say quietly, calmly to the scared boy in my arms, stroking his hair. "Me and your Daddy are going to get you out of here, okay." I think he nods into my chest. "Okay. Can you do Aunt Nikita a favor and show me how strong you are? That's right wrap your arms around me real tight." When I feel the pressure on my neck and around my waist I know we are ready. 

The father is waiting for us in the corridor. I know the way but he takes point. With my chin I direct him to the stairwell, "That way." 

We run. 

He doesn't know this one. "All the way down," I instruct. We hit the third floor. His eyes question me. "All the way down." The child is growing heavy in my arms. "Aunt Nikita can't feel how strong you are Adam," I whisper. "Good boy." 

His eyes questioned me again. "Keep going." Down, we keep going down the long stairwell that haunted me until we reach the basement. 

I will later remember that this is not the exit I mean. There is another deeper in the bowels of the compound but I have fallen under his confidence. His lack of knowledge neither alerts nor bothers me. 

"Hold Aunt Nikita tighter," is become rote but works. 

I don't know how but the father has a gun. I assume it has always been. He opens the basement door. No security alarms go off though they should. Still I don't realize we are in the wrong place. 

Outside the air is cool and wet. A haze of fog hangs over the green grounds. That Adam and I will go first is a given. The father will cover for us. 

He puts his hand on my shoulder. My eyes question him. He directs them to a ramp close to our shadowed doorway. Anger, fear and frustration flood me. We back away hoping the guard with the gun, the ear-mike and specs hasn't seen us. We know he has. 

"No," I say, hurt and denial rich in one word. "No." 

He looks at me, the mask broken. I have never seen fear on this man's face. "Yes." We run up the stairs hoping they are merely coming from behind. 

"No," I think I scream but I haven't. 

They converge before we make it to the first floor. Someone grabs my leg. I fall and kick him off. The child needs no prodding to hold tight. 

"Come on," the father begs me. 

I look up as another team pushes through the first floor door. We are hopeless. Their guns are trained on us. "Michael," I scream. 

He fires no shots but is gunned down. I feel pain lance through my back and shoulder. As I fall I think, "Please let it not have hit Adam. Please God not Adam." 

Strangely I remember walking toward the compound. I remember walking across the grounds, coat open, hands in my pocket. I remember walking past Control. No one noticed me. Remember walking past armed guards without worry. It seems I have a knack for going unnoticed. 

Michael and I are on the floor. They surround us. I hear another shot but I don't know who it is for. 

I remember thinking Michael will want to know why I am here. I remember thinking, "I had to go on this mission if only because I know this place." I remember thinking; "I respect this dangerous man; I empathize for him." I remember thinking, "Well just walk out of here." I remember thinking "Oh God let them think I'm dead so at least I can save the child."   
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   [1]: http://www.gurlpages.com/tinpra/main.html



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